Scutter Love
by Random Dent
Summary: Bob the Scutter thinks it's time to tell the object of his affections how he feels (*Slash*)


WARNING: Mention of m/m and man/scutter interaction - nothing graphic.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing!  
Note: I haven't seen this on the telly for ages, so it's based on the books.  
  
Bob the scutter proceeded along the corridor with a due sense of occasion. Today was special. Today was St. Valentine's day, and it was time for him to reveal his love for one Dave Lister. It probably would have punctured his sense of occasion somewhat to know that it was not in fact the Saint's day devoted to lovers, but due to an error on Holly's part it was in fact St. Aethelbringer's day, patron saint of those unfortunate souls cursed with stomach ulcers and associated conditions.   
  
He entered the pit of ordure that was Lister's quarters and waited expectantly for the object of his affections to look up from biting his toenails.   
  
"Whassup Bob?"  
  
Bob proffered the object held in his claws. A Valentine's card that he'd spent considerable time on. It even had little dreadlocks on it, and was chemically scented to smell like a vindaloo.   
  
Lister looked confused. "Do you... Bob... I mean, man, you never said anything... I mean, what, why?"  
  
Bob managed to look abashed, but still tried to communicate his overwhelming love for Lister.   
  
"No, no man, you can't be in love with me. You just can't. It's wrong."  
  
Bob made an expressive gesture.  
  
"No, I am not a smegging homophobe! It wouldn't matter if you were Roberta, it matters that you're a scutter!"  
  
Bob felt that this was unfair speciesism.  
  
"Bob, it just wouldn't work. You're a good scutter, but I just don't feel anything for you. Sorry man." Lister privately decided that he had in fact gone totally insane now that he was trying to protect the feelings of a menial robot. Next thing he'd be forgiving the talkie toaster.  
  
Bob exuded such dejection that Lister felt impelled to try and salvage the situation.  
  
"Look, you don't want me anyway. I'm the opposite of all that, y'know, mechanical clean precise stuff. I'm a slob, you'd hate me. Really."   
  
Bob tried the line of argument that opposites attract.  
  
"Yeah, it says opposites attract but where does it say opposites stay together? It'd never work. You want someone clean, efficient," Lister cast round desperately for anything to try and make Bob feel better, "like Rimmer. Much better suited."  
  
Bob gave an expressive and expansive charade on the subject of Rimmer, the key points of which were that while Rimmer may be clean, yes, and have some surface semblance of efficiency, he was in fact a smeghead, a knobhead (simultaneously, which is quite some feat), and an arsehole. The sub-points of the routine also commented on Rimmer's dullness, inability to find his arse with a star map and the high probability of him being supremely under-endowed.  
  
"Ok, ok, I'm sorry I wasn't thinking strai- properly. But there is someone on this ship who I think you are suited for."  
  
Bob mentally went through the possibilities and told Lister that if the person he was about to suggest was Holly he could stick his head in a pig, thank you very much.  
  
"Nah, not Holly. You don't want to get yourself stuck with a senile pensioner at your age, a scutter in the prime of life, do you?"  
  
Bob agreed, but if Lister was going to suggest another scutter he could forget it. He dated them all and they were all disappointments to a man.  
  
"You are stuck on the only blokes thing aren't you?"  
  
Bob had the counter-argument that if Lister felt that sexuality could be so easily changed why then wasn't he, as a single male survivor of the human race, engaged in a three-way gangbang with Rimmer and the Cat?   
  
"Sorry, point taken. Anyway, the person who I think you'd be best with is Kryten."  
  
Bob looked supremely doubtful, and added that you couldn't dictate the path of love merely by logic.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know that, but you could win yourself round to him. I mean, I'm never gonna swing that way, sorry man, but Kryten might be just up your street."  
  
Bob looked thoughtful.  
  
***** *****  
  
Kryten was supremely happy at work doing his chores in the kitchen. Bob was such a help round the place, and good company as well. He didn't know why the scutter had suddenly taken this helpful turn, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 


End file.
